Dreams of a Deathless King
by Ebonshire
Summary: A poetic reworking of the original movie, with Jareth as the story's focus. I plan to carry on this fiction, hopefully maturing the storyline from a children's plot to more of a profound fantasy atmosphere. Hope you enjoy!


The weak, milky daylight weighed heavily over the gnarled trees and scarred rocks of the wild and startling landscape, their lengthening shadows resembling sinful creatures and putrid monsters. The shrill ivory moon, though always present in the forever-shifting skies, had begun a warping morph into it's brighter, off-crescent form, throwing an eerie, foggy light onto the land of insanity below.

Time had a mind of it's own in this place.

The day had decided to last a mere four hours today, as it had a habit of doing so close to winter, when it tended to have no interest in pushing itself to provide substantial light, when darkness's arrogance was so much easier to give in to.

But darkness was also rife because darkness is what lived in the heart of the Ruler. It was burrowed deep in his soul, swarming through him like poisonous locusts, coiling itself around him as a wilting laurel, as much intent on ruling him as he was on ruling his land of Void.

He sat alone in the lavishly engraved opening of his balcony, the enormity of his splintered castle spreading far below, into the misty gloom where his Labyrinth lay; a huge, hulking concrete maze of foul trickery and hideousness.

Here above his world, he felt a condescending pride once again fill his chest as he gazed with his beautiful eyes of brown and blue over the vastness of his own personal playground, his kingdom, his _reason_ to be.

It mattered not that the trees were dead; it mattered not that his people were malformed and deceitful, it _mattered __**not **_that with every year that passed the days got shorter and shorter, the nights slithering their black tendrils parasitically over the crooked soil of his empire...

"...My Lord, Jareth!?"

A coarse, rasping voice roused him from his daydream, and he twitched his head sharply towards the source of the unpleasant sound, long, layered strands of snowy-blonde hair falling gracefully around his angelic, strong-jawed face. His eyes met those of a small, ugly, impish creature, a bulbous snub nose set high on it's greyish flat face, two short, thick tusks protruding gracelessly from it's long, slack mouth.

"What?!" Jareth barked harshly, his features dark with malice, waves of impatience flowing from within him. His soft, thin lips curled with hateful distaste as the Imp faltered in fear, the stubby toes of it's bare, warty feet twitching as it took a few unsteady steps backwards.

"M...My Lord, the council w-wish to speak with y-ou, about that f-food rationing business you..."

The imp stopped mid sentence and squealed shrilly as Jareth's snarling face was suddenly inches from it's own, his outline still blurry from his untraceable dash.

"I care **NOT** about the petty issues your COUNCIL have with my system of government! You...!" He lowered his deep, drawling voice suddenly, his features creasing with something which definitely wasn't benign, "_Surely _you aren't _**questioning**_ my system, _are_ you, Raoul?"

His tone was a simper by the end, a malicious, crooked smile playing about his lips, his mismatched eyes hypnotisingly still and unblinking.

Raoul's own eyes were wide as plates, his jaw slackening even more so than usual, his stocky form rigid and tense.

"N-no, sir! Of c-_course_ not! As if **I** could ever q-question _**your**_ judgement! _Absurd_! It's j-just that the -"

"It's just _nothing._" Jareth crooned, his voice meltingly soft, and dripping with malevolence, "You will tell your council that they have no say in the matter, and they will abide as their Lord commands. _Do you understand?_" He hissed dangerously, a few specks of blue-tinted saliva flicking onto Raoul's traumatised features.

"O-Of course, my Lord, of course! I'll inform t-them right away! R-right away!" He babbled stutteringly, stumbling backwards and almost tripping over his own quivering feet. He turned and scampered fleetingly through the marble archway marking the entrance to Jareth's private quarters.

Raoul was the only one allowed in here aside from himself, and Jareth tended to regret even allowing that at times like these, when he was relishing in his own thoughts, away from the strains of his rule; and his hunchbacked, cloth-eared adviser often arrived just in time to put a damper on these beautiful thoughts.

Jareth straightened and turned slowly back towards the wide open balcony, walking elegantly forwards as a calmingly cool breeze rustled his soft, white-gold hair and tattered velvet cloak. His smooth pale skin was lit almost ghost-like in the gently undulating moonlight, the blue and violet patterns around his odd eyes sparkling with glitter and gems.

He leaned casually on the alabaster balcony rail, it's intricate, wiry adornments casting spiralling shadows onto his tight, black trousers and heeled mahogany boots, the serenely shifting light making them dance like fairies across the creases of leather.

He sighed heavily into the night; Yes. He was happy here.

With a sudden graceful flick of his wrist, he summoned a small, glistening silver crystal ball from the ether; it's surface shimmering like a teardrop, sharp rainbow shards emanating from within it's core.

He played with it absently; weaving it about his long, gloved fingers as he stared off into the distance, watching a galaxy of shooting stars swish majestically through the air, the waveringly indistinct shapes of planets and moons merging effortlessly with the soft waves of night.

As the breeze grew gradually colder, small shivers beginning to impose upon his porcelain skin, Jareth shook himself from his stupor, tearing his eyes away from the grandeur of his night to retreat to the comfort of the warm braziers burning within his bedchamber.

This was his most private of places. NO-ONE else had ever, or **would** ever venture in here; it was his one true sanctuary from the madness he knew truly ruled his kingdom.

The chamber was vast; a thousand blackened candles floated gently aside the grey, cavernous walls, rose-laden chandeliers gracing the soaring ceiling with comforting light. Many gorgeous paintings lined the stonework; portraits of pain-stakingly detailed faces of incredible beauty, their eyes so mesmerisingly real they seemed to glisten with the sorrowfully gentle moisture of the gleaming iris.

Voluminous bookshelves ran the length of the opposite side of the chamber, their aging, yellowing contents ranging from grand tomes of Psyche and Philosophy to modest treasuries of beloved tales; his cherished favourite displayed grandly on a spiralling plinth at the forefront:

_**Alice's Adventures in Wonderland**_.

He always smiled when he read it, over and over like an obsession; it's weird and wonderful rhymes of nonsense caressing his broken and buried feelings of childish rapture, it's strange and curious land of ever-changing wonders and fantastical bizzarities reminding him so much of his own Wonderland.

His bed lay in the centre of this grand chamber, upon an exquisite carpet of blazing gold and turquoise, it's four intricate posts climbing high toward the ceiling in graceful twists and turns, deep navy cashmere drapes falling from them as delicate waterfalls.

The violet crushed velvet bedspread lay enticingly soft and inviting upon the patterned mattress, and Jareth found himself gliding over towards it as if in a willing dream. He lay himself down with a satisfied sigh, his thick, ruined cloak billowing in graceful folds underneath his long, almost femininely slender form.

He removed a white, silken glove to reveal an elegantly sinewed pale hand, tipped with long nails of glittering powder blue, and stroked the plush velvet lovingly, the glossy material welcomingly soothing to his icy flesh.

He stared absently upwards through thin locks of soft sunshine at the austerely arched ceiling of the chamber, resting his mystical eyes in turn on each of the four delightful angels dancing in absolute stillness upon the grand chandelier suspended above him, limbs outstretched in utter grace for eternity.

He smiled contentedly up at them; and began to hum a hauntingly pretty lullaby in a rich, deep tone, a sombre tune which he'd heard many aeons ago, but knew he'd never remember who the sweet voice who sang it to him so tenderly belonged to.

As drowsiness began to close his eyes in it's gentle grasp, his soothing lullaby fading to peaceful silence, he felt a rippling wave of intense energy pulsate through the chamber, flowing quiveringly over his pallid flesh.  
His eyes snapped open, and he was stood sternly upright beside the bed in a split-second of quicksilver; his willowy arm outstretched to hold aloft a steadily bulging crystal ball, it's surface warping and bending with a strange convergence of time and space.

Jareth's eyes bored deep into the ball, focusing his infinitely strong will into ordering the crystal to reveal the message it seemed eager to inform him of. The ball pulsed a final time before a steadily clearing image swam into view within it's glassy depths.

The face of a young, pure girl in her middling to late teen years is what met Jareth's intensely searching eyes first; a face so soft and innocent that it caused his breath to catch a little in his throat as he inhaled impulsively. Her mossy almond eyes were bright and full of vigour, lined with thick lashes and elegantly arched eyebrows of terracotta to match her long wavy hair.

Jareth's own eyes twinkled with sky and earth as he watched her obsessively; a girl so pure and virtuous, yet with a fascination for those dark arts which he so devotedly commandeered in his universe of lunacy and decay.

She was... _**beautiful**_.

In his deep, enigmatic mind, as twisted as to rival his infinitely meandering Labyrinth, he could see her collection of dark artistry; the oaken wands and cracked spell books she kept under her bed, the shining silver pentagrams and triskele she hid in her drawers, the boxes and boxes of ancient runes she locked away in her closet...

His tiny, awed smile widened to a garish grin of glee as the last image materialised before him; _now_ he understood.

He understood it all. A small, unassuming book lay half-obscured under a pile of offhand clutter at the edge of her desk; but not so obscured as to hide the calligraphically-printed title of the book:

_**Labyrinth**_

He erupted in an echoing, musical bout of rapturous laughter, clapping his hands together in utmost joy, swirling himself around in a lone waltz around his chamber, flaxen hair tumbling about his elated features, his trailing garments swishing behind him as though joining the dance.

Of all who could've found the portal to his ludicrous domain, it was one so painfully innocent as she!

He skipped gracefully back to where the crystal floated serenely, watching jovially as the girl's... _Sarah. Sarah was her name... _story unfolded before him; her insatiable hate for her infinitely troublesome baby brother, and how deep that hate electrified him in it's wickedness!

The malice she poured from her heart onto this child was... _exquisite_ in it's cruelty.

_I... I __**must**__ have her... she is a blossoming flower of disease; a Venus of loathing! She... she will be __**my **__angel! _

He stared, agonisingly focused, into the crystal, watching with bated breath as he felt her mind wandering back to thoughts of the Labyrinth, that tattered old book she'd read over and over, memorized all the intricate verses within, yet never uttered aloud...

In her agitated state of abhorrence and dismay, she returned to the sanctuary of her book; mouthing gently along to the ghoulish paragraphs inside, her tender fingers gripping the edges of the bound leather with shivering tension, her deep eyes of wild forests blinking rapidly at the lines of spidery text.

_Speak, child... __**speak**__, and I shall come... _

The loathsome infant began it's insipid bawling once again, it's flabby face creased with red folds of wailing mouth and screwed up eyes. Jareth gripped the smooth edges of the crystal with wintry palms as the girl.. _Sarah! She of malice and beautiful rage! ... _rose from her seat and stomped into the baby's room, reaching in and shaking the screeching child in sheer frustration.  
In a somehow serene voice of utter desperation and fury, she began to speak those words she knew so well, to speak them unto Him, though she knew not who...

_**"But, Oh! Will I never be free? Must I suffer in this eternity of dust and sand!? Through my life I see nothing but misery and woe; through my eyes I see an endless oblivion, reeking of ashes! Deliver me, Oh Deathless one, deliver me from Hell!" **_

The intense passion of her glorious speech; the perfection of the delivery of her heartfelt words, pleading for salvation brought a single tear to Jareth's shimmering sapphire eye, which stung with bitterness as it slid partway down his ashen cheek, evaporating into nothing in seconds.

He spun away from the vision within the crystal, lifting his head, dappled with silky sunbeams, towards the ceiling and spreading his black satin-covered arms widely, erupting with a gorgeously operatic laugh which shook the very walls of his dream-like chamber.

"**Oh, she will be** _**MINE**_!!!" He cried with delight, twirling on a sleekly-booted foot and laughing again, louder, stronger, dancing in bliss as his angelic portraits looked down in their mute indifference.

He darted in a flash of silvery light out of his bedchamber and onto the intricately carved railings of his grand balcony, perching as steadily as a bird on the thin alabaster, looking out over his land of sandstone and rubble. The first rays of a new dawn, rising as though to greet his beautiful ecstacy, cast elongated shadows from the ancient corpses of the dead trees; each battered rock and boulder given a twin of blackest expanse.

Jareth raised his head and breathed in a long stream of fresh, crisp air, smiling to himself as the sensation tickled his narrow nose and invigorated his stale throat.

The deep red, sun-drenched horizon was beckoning to him with its graceful morning clouds and mist which hung so magnificently over the profound shapes of dense forest in the distance, and the cool breeze of a newborn day stroked his faultless skin as it invited him so tenderly.

He smiled; closing his peculiar and exquisite eyes as he leapt forwards in unimaginable grace; his flowing cloak and billowing satin joining in glorious harmony in his wake. His long, elegant form wrapped itself in cascading reams of whitest silk, dazzling beams of blinding light erupting from within, and he emerged from the falling draperies as a beautifully sleek owl of purest snow, strong wings carrying him upon the exhilarating air.

With unblinking eyes of sky and earth, the owl flew ever onwards into the untold grandeur of the dawn, it's pathway deliciously clear, it's purpose shimmering like a diamond in it's heart.

_She of malice and beautiful rage... _

_Ask, and you shall receive. _

_Weep, and you shall fear nothing. _

_Die... And you shall be mine. _


End file.
